(Not) Quite Ready For Another Adventure
by Raouldehadleyfraser
Summary: Bilbo hadn't exactly meant this when he'd said that to Gandalf as they boarded the ship. No, he had definitely not wanted to restart his life from just before it was overturned by dwarves, elves, skinchangers, and oh, let's not forget dragons and gold-sickness. And that Valar forsaken Ring. This was most definitely not what he had imagined - but that was still what had happened.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This has been posted on AO3 for ages - or at least the first seven chapters, because that's all I've got written, but I thought I would share it here as well.

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Now, when Bilbo had said that he was quite ready for another adventure, this was not at all what he had meant. He had not asked to wake up in his house at Bag End a few months before dwarves from Erebor came to reclaim their homeland. Despite the many times he had wished that he could change everything that had happened, with the dragon and with the Arkenstone... and with Thorin and the boys, in no way had he asked to be allowed to relive it _all_.

"Oh bother and confusticate those dwarves." He muttered to himself as he stocked up on their favourite foods, and even headed over to Bree to see if he could find a dagger. That was when he noticed Gandalf and Thorin over at the other side of the Prancing Pony. There were mercenaries watching them, and Bilbo almost sighed with relief when Gandalf sat next to Thorin, scaring them off. He listened in to the conversation.

_"Thrain... urged... take back Erebor. Say the same to you..."_

_"Vagabond..."_

_"I imagine they regretted that."_

_"Black speech... promise of payment. Your head."_

Ah, Azog, then.

_"King's Jewel..."_

And oh dear, if that didn't make Bilbo's ears wiggle with fear. How he hated that stone. Almost as much as he hated the Ring for what it had done -wait- for what it _had yet to do_ to his nephew. He could change that - _he could take the ring and spare Frodo all that pain._ It took all Bilbo had not to shout out in joy.

"Oh, thank you, Miriel." He murmured as she brought his dinner to him along with a half-pint of ale. He ate it gratefully - he was trying to wean off his seven meals a day in preparation for the adventure. He grinned to himself. This time he was going to be prepared. But what he hadn't prepared for, was a wizard plopping down right next to him.

"Bilbo! I thought I recognized your voice. Do you remember me?"

"Go away you meddling old wizard. It's not midsummer so you can't be around for the fireworks. I don't want to hear it."

"Oh, but my dear Bilbo, think of how much fun an adventure could be?"

"Hmm. Fun. That's odd. That fellow there doesn't seem particularly fun. He seems awfully serious, if you ask me. And with good reason, looks like." He said with a surreptitious glance at those who had been following Thorin.

"Indeed. But this might be the perfect time, since you're here - why are you here, anyway, dear Bilbo?" The hobbit shrugged, knocking back his ale.

"Oh, no reason in particular, I just thought I might get out of the Shire for a while. It's home, and it's very dear to me, of course, but there's so much more to the world than just Hobbiton, than just my mother's fine china and doilies." He said with a grin.

"There's more of that Took blood in you than I would have warranted, Bilbo." Gandalf looked over him with a thoughtful eye. Bilbo shrugged.

"Well, as long as you don't tell your dwarf friend the theory about that, that can keep being a good thing."

"Who is to say whether or not legends are true?"

"Hmm. There's some story or another of hobbits once living somewhere between the Greenwood and the Lonely Mountain, too, in times long forgotten. Any truth to that one?"

"Why, I am but a simple wizard-" But Thorin had chosen that moment to drop into their conversation.

"Indeed? I had not heard that, Master Hobbit-"

"Baggins, actually. Bilbo Baggins, at your service." He made a little bow, and he couldn't help the way his mouth twitched slightly as he lowered his head. Thorin did not seem to notice.

"Do you know any other legends of the lonely mountain?"

"Oh, not a lot, no. Hobbits don't generally go very far from home - unless prompted by meddling wizards." He shot a pointed look at Gandalf. "And those who go, if they come back _at all_, they're never the same." The wizard looked positively scandalised.

"Bilbo! If this is about the time with your mother and the cave troll, I assure you, the damage was only temporary. She was back to herself in no time."

"She never ate stew again. Couldn't even look at it without throwing up." Well, not for a good long while afterwards, at any rate.

"You exaggerate, my dear fellow." Bilbo shook his head and sighed.

"Oh, and like you don't make it sound like my great great uncle Bullroarer Took invented gold when he clubbed off the head of a goblin king? But no matter. Are... are you sure those men won't come back?" He whispered to Thorin, who nodded, eyeing the hobbit appraisingly.

"You could tell?"

"They weren't being subtle. Look at this place - it's not where those sorts of folks can hide in plain sight." He shuddered. Thorin frowned at him.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just..." Something glittered in his eye, and Bilbo might almost call it recognition. But no. That couldn't be... oh well, he'd just have to check.

"Looking for a grocer or a burglar?"At Thorin's frown, he held back a sigh of bitter disappointment. Never mind. If this Thorin didn't know the old him, then so much the better. He could make a much better impression this time around. But for now, the king-under-the-mountain-to-be was looking at him suspiciously.

"Okay, so I admit I was listening in to a little of your conversation. All I really caught was that you were looking for a burglar and that someone was after your head." Thorin nodded.

"And would you?" Gandalf asked. Bilbo squinted at him, hoping to look at least a little confused.

"Would I what?"

"Consider being a burglar, on a quest?"

"Burglar doesn't sound very hon- I mean, respectable. For all that I'm a Took, my father was a Baggins, so I'm a Baggins too, you know. Have to be respectable."

"Ah, but you'd be burgling from a dragon."

"Dear me. A dragon, well. That sounds awfully dangerous" He was trying to sound frightened, but he didn't think he convinced either of them.

"You want to go on this quest, don't you?"

"I've wanted to go on a quest since I was a fauntling looking for elves in the Westfarthing woods, Gandalf. If you'd waited much longer, I might have become a proper Baggins, and you'd have to drag me out the door by my pointy ears." The wizard gave a good hearty chuckle at that. The dwarf just glared at the mention of elves.

"Oh, lighten up, you sour-puss. People are trying to kill you, and you're asking me to steal from a dragon - and well, there's only one dragon that could be, since you were so curious about what I knew of the Lonely Mountain... of Erebor. Okay, I was going to say it's not all doom and gloom, but I suppose it is. Oh dear. I don't think I'm looking forward to meeting Smaug."

"You will come, then?" The dwarf king asked, concern and suspicion and awe warring in his expression. Bilbo nodded.

"Aye, I think I will. If you want, you can spend the night in one of my guest rooms - not likely anyone would follow us to the Shire, and before they did, the Rangers would deal with them. Safer than here though... I really wouldn't want to lead anyone or... any_thing_ that might be following you to my home. I didn't think this through. I mean, you would probably be fine here, but I meant to - sorry. I let my train of thought get away from me there."

"Do you often invite people whose names you do not know into your home for the night?" Thorin asked, a teasing edge to his voice. Bilbo rolled his eyes, he was too old for this nonsense.

"None. And I'll not be starting tonight. Now, Gandalf mentioned a Thrain, I remember that being the name of King Thror's son, was it not? Who d- ah, went missing... and you said something about a King's Jewel... I wonder - could you be his son, Thorin?" And he couldn't quite help his satisfied smirk at the shock on the dwarf king's face. He wasn't playing fair, but like hell he was going to be seen as useless this time around.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hello all, can I just say thank you so much for all the reviews and faves and follows for this so far? I really appreciate them, and since I now have chapter 8 written on AO3, I can post chapter 2 here (I like having a bit of a buffer that I can rely on) and from now on I will attempt to have a chapter posted for this at least once every 2 weeks)_

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And so it was that Bilbo Baggins invited Thorin Oakenshield to stay the night at Bag End. He had very nearly invited Gandalf as well, in a moment of what could only be called insanity - but he was a Baggins, and a Baggins must be courteous, after all - though thankfully the wizard politely declined. Gandalf had left the inn, no doubt off to see about making sure they weren't followed, that or some wizarding business of his.

Bilbo and Thorin made quite good time, and considering it was dark and miserable, it was a wonder they didn't bump into any unsavoury characters. They were in Bag End, warm and dry, soon enough. It was a relief to feel the warm air after the bitter chill of the wind and rain they'd walked through.

"Here we are then. I know it's not much, but it's home."

"I did not know halflings liked being underground." Thorin muttered, and Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"I'd wager there's a fair bit you don't know about _hobbits_, Master Dwarf. We have our own name to call ourselves, thank you. Don't need the one made by _men_ who think of us as little more than the dirt on their shoes. Nasty things, shoes. Imagine if I went calling you the _elvish_ word for dwarf - I don't imagine you'd like that all too much, would you?" He grumbled, and Thorin almost looked angry, before sighing.

"I did not mean to cause offence. I humbly ask your forgiveness."

"I did not take you for a humble sort." Bilbo quipped with half a smile tugging at his lips, which Thorin returned.

"But I am humbled indeed, by your generosity." Bilbo made a noncommittal noise, and took off his cloak, hanging it up on the rack by the door, before placing his weapons in what used to be his mother's glory box. Thorin was eyeing him warily again.

"They were actually why I went to Bree in the first place. I just _might_ have been planning an adventure of my own. So you see, I wasn't being entirely unselfish when I ah... accepted the proposal." He noticed the way Thorin relaxed at his small confession and rolled his eyes. Typical mistrusting dwarves.

"I must admit, it relieves me to hear that. I did not know quite what to think of you. You surprised even Gandalf."

"Ah, I imagine I'll regret that. I'll be getting suspicious looks off him constantly" The hobbit complained, much to Thorin's amusement. Bilbo looked again at the knife in his hand. Such a little thing, and he'd had to have them specially made, and they'd break eventually, but for now they were serviceable enough. He'd have to practice a little to adjust his aim to the weight, but he'd get there eventually. _Maybe Fili could teach me_, he thought absently as he put it away with a sigh.

"Not as good as you'd hoped?" Thorin asked, reaching out to take the next knife. Bilbo handed him it without thinking, knowing he would want to examine the craftsmanship. Bilbo watched as he turned it over in his palm, delicately, and frowned in concentration. He held it up to the light for a bit, and then handed it back to its rightful owner.

"It's decently enough made, for the work of Men. Though I think perhaps you had it tailored specially for your size?" Bilbo nodded, taking it back gratefully and depositing it into his box.

"Took a bit of doing, too. Blasted moron wouldn't take me seriously, so I pestered him for a week. Said I might as well pay him as I was driving all his other business away" He grinned to himself. That had been a rather fun way to waste his time whilst he waited to find dwarves at his door. Thorin shook his head and crossed his arms.

"I do not quite know what to make of you, Master Baggins. Every time I think I understand you, you say something to throw me off."

"Oh, it's all part of the fun, being mysterious." He answered, but there was no humour in his voice, and he started to think about the one person who had thoroughly understood him. Someone he had not thought about in decades, someone he had pushed to the very depths of his mind. Someone whose room had been just down the hallway. He didn't even realized his mind had drifted off until he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder and shake him lightly. When he came back to himself, Thorin was staring at him, his eyes awash with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Master Baggins, are you quite well?" The deep voice rumbled.

"I...well no. I just. Memories, I suppose. I stay here, but it's like living with ghosts." He sighed and shook his head. "But never mind that, Master Oakenshield. Would you like a cup of tea? Perhaps a little brandy? I'm afraid that's the strongest I've got-"

"That will do fine, Master Baggins. Just tea is perfectly acceptable." Bilbo nodded and made his way to the kitchen.

"Feel free to sit," He told the dwarf, gesturing to the table, which he still had maps and books laid out on. "I'm afraid it's a bit of a jumble, but I'll get it cleaned up in a moment." Thorin did as he bade and took the chance to investigate whatever adventure the hobbit had been planning. He still meant to ask what exactly Bilbo had meant when he said he was living with ghosts, but he suspected it would not be a very well recieved subject of conversation, from the way he deflected when Thorin had first asked. There were many maps of different locations, and to his distaste, he could see that the books were about elves - or at least most of them. But one was open at a page where the name _Thranduil_ was underlined. It was written in Sindarin, but he still growled when he saw the name of his hated enemy.

"What's got you so worked up?" Bilbo asked mildly, glancing over at the book and smiling, shaking his head. "Ah, that is an account of the Battle of Dagorlad. A very rare edition. It err... details the death of Oropher."

"Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

"It was the name of Thranduil's father. He became king in the middle of a war. Talk about being thrown in at the deep end. He was quite young, by elf standards, I believe. There's not an awful lot more I've been able to find out about him, or the Greenwood - Mirkwood they call it now. Secretive fellow, I think. Now, the elves of Imladris are another matter entirely. Hospitable to a fault. Lord Elrond pleaded with Isildur to throw the Ring into the fire" Even talking about _it_ sent a shudder down his spine. "But he underestimated the greed of Men, and so the king kept it, and then it was lost, probably only waiting to be found by the next foul creature as lays eyes upon it." He conceded, sighing. He hoped Thorin did not hate him too much for his talking about elves so much. But Thorin had stopped paying attention to him. He had found a map of the Lonely Mountain and surrounding lands. But that was not the detail which had captured the King's attention.

"There is a child's drawing of a dragon on this." He said, lifting it up and pointing so that Bilbo could see. And when Bilbo looked, he couldn't help the flash of memory that came with it. He sat in his own chair with a heavy thunk, breaths short and raspy. He thought he'd grown out of the panic attacks by now.

"That - I... my brother drew that." Thorin suddenly dropped the map and was at Bilbo's side in less than a heartbeat.

"Master Baggins, I am sorry - please, just try to breathe slowly. That's it, in and out. Keep doing that. Just listen to my voice and _calm down_." Bilbo found it surprisingly easy to follow the orders of his king, so he did so. Thorin kept his eyes on the hobbit's own, and soon they were breathing in time.

"Th..thank you. I didn't realise that was... it must have been in with mother's things. I remember the day he drew that. He'd just turned nine. He'd asked ma for a story about dragons. He was rather enamoured with the idea of going to slay one." He allowed himself a little rueful half smile, "I yelled at him for defacing ma's maps. I-" He was about to wallow in his self-hate, but Thorin put a finger over his lips and shook his head.

"Master Baggins. That's enough now. I'll get you a cup of that tea. I do believe you need something to steady you."

"I just... I wasn't expecting it." He explained lamely, but Thorin nodded, a sad smile of his own surfacing.

"Believe me when I say _I understand_, Bilbo." He assured, placing the mug down gently in front of the hobbit, who reached out gratefully to take it, smiling when he noticed the little kick it had.

"Found the brandy, then?" He asked, before taking another sip. It did settle him wonderfully. But Thorin was still looking at him - halfway resigned, halfway questioning. Bilbo shook his head, wondering whether or not he could do this.

"You do not have to tell me if you do not wish." Thorin soothed him.

"But you want to know, Master Oakenshield, and therefore I shall tell you. It's probably about time I talked about it to someone. My... my brother's death. I can talk about my father's and my mother's, but somehow, when it comes to Will..." He trailed off, looking for the right words. "I suppose it's hard because it was _me_ who failed him. I should have been there, and I would have, if only there had been someone else - it was just the two of us by then, you see. It was the Fell Winter, and there was little food, and the rivers were frozen over, and I had to get firewood, or we would freeze. Da had frozen to death doing the same thing. Ma had been bitten by a White Wolf. It wasn't like we could get to a healer without them smelling her blood and putting everyone else in danger. And she said she couldn't come back with us either, so she just took off into the woods and told us to run, to not look back. But that was only very near the beginning. Before the wargs, and before the orcs that rode them." He could still see their foul glee, and he could still see blood on snow, red on white. But the memories are mixed now, with those of clashing swords and putting himself between his king and his worst enemy. If he could face that, then he could face this memory.

"I had barely made it to the edge of the woods when I heard them for the first time. Those bloodcurdling howls were awful to hear. But worse was the frightened cry that sounded so familiar - he had nightmares sometimes, after ma left. It sounded like that, but so much worse. I dropped all the wood I was carrying and I ran, faster than I'd ever run before. And when I got to our door, there was a warg dragging him by the leg out into the street. There were orcs inside the house, but all I could see was my little brother and blood, so much blood." Thorin put a steadying hand on his arm, and Bilbo nodded, grateful, noticing the sheen of tears in the dwarf's eyes as well. "I had the axe I was using to chop the wood, and whilst it wasn't all that much use, it startled it enough for me to pick up Will and run. I ran so far and so fast, but I stopped when I couldn't hear them anymore. I tried... I tried to bandage his leg. But he was so pale already. I knew I was losing him. And he just smiled up at me and asked for... for one last lullaby."

"Oh dear Mahal in his Halls, just how young were the pair of you?" Thorin asked, his own voice thick with emotion. Bilbo smiled through the tears that streamed down his face freely.

" Hobbits are considered adults at 33 years of age. I was twenty. Will was twelve." There was a choked gasp of disbelief, before strong arms wrapped him close to a broad, warm chest. "Thorin, I-"

"Hush, little Bilbo Baggins. You were naught but a child yourself. There was nothing you could have done."

"He was my little brother. If anyone should have- it should have been _me_. _He was mine to protect and I failed him_!" Bilbo all but shouted - or he had meant it to be a shout, but it came out as a broken sob, which made Thorin hold him even closer, until he was practically crushing Bilbo.

"I know, oh how well do I know that, little one. For my brother Frerin, fell at Azanulbizar. I will never forgive myself for his loss."

He held Bilbo as the little hobbit sobbed, and the rain did not let up. Eventually, Bilbo managed to escape the embrace and tidy away the maps, and sort out a bed for the dwarf, and both were quiet, except for a song which Bilbo sang softly:

_Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby__  
__Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay_  
_And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow__  
__Bless you with love for the road that you go..._

It broke the heart of the King of carven stone to hear such sadness in his host, but he knew of no remedy - for he had never even found one for himself, not truly.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: So I haven't actually finished chapter 9 to post on AO3 yet, but I have it started, which is something, and since you all have been so very lovely and encouraging with your reviews (I promise I will get around to replying to the ones for chapter 2) I decided you all deserved another chapter as a thank you. I'm quite fond of this one myself, so I hope you enjoy it too._

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Bilbo found that he could not sleep that night. Not in this room, not with those memories so freshly dug up and aired. He half expected Will to come in crying about wolves and orcs, and to have to tell stories of springtime and flowers to calm him down. Goodness, he'd all but erased these memories the first go round - but wasn't that what the entirety of the Shire had done, in the aftermath of the Fell Winter? They had buried what dead they could and then went on as if everything could be normal again. And for so many now, it was. And before, the first time, it had been for Bilbo as well. He had just been alone, not _haunted_. He had buried the memory of his brother's existence because he could not bear his own shame. He rolled over and closed his eyes again, but all he saw was blood, and wolves and orcs - and then the elves and the dwarves and the men that fought them. _Dear me, I am rather a mess, I should think_, Bilbo mused wryly to himself. He tried once more to sleep but eventually abandoned the idea, shaking off his blankets and getting up.

He walked silently down the hallway, stopping at Thorin's door. He stared at it and frowned for a moment, wondering just what bothered him about it when he realised - oh. He'd given him Will's old room without even realising it. _Still,_ thought Bilbo_, there's nothing to be done about it now._ So he positioned himself just to the side of the door and he sat down. If he wasn't going to sleep then he might as well do something that made him feel slightly less useless. Even if there was no danger, even though he knew he was safe, he stood guard outside of Thorin's door.

Thorin, for his part, slept rather well. He had not spent the night in such a comfortable bed for a very long time, and he took advantage of the opportunity, kicking off his boots and settling down for the night. He dreamt, but no terrors followed into his mind - only happy memories, of his brother and sister and himself before everything. Before the dragon. When he woke up his eyes watered with tears, but he did not mind all that much. And he was grateful now, more than ever, that he had had Frerin beside him as long as he had. To lose a sibling which was just a child - he could not begin to imagine the hobbit's pain. And yet he could see it etched in his face, clear as day. Coming with them would be good for Bilbo, he decided. It would get him out into the world and away from a place where he either wanted to forget, or to drown in the memories. Finally deciding to open his eyes, he stretched and sat up, his legs over the side of the bed. It was bright that morning, and when he looked out the window, he saw that the grass was dewy with the rain of the previous night. He once again marvelled at the generosity of hobbits - or this hobbit in particular. Perhaps he was an oddity. He probably was. Shaking his head, he pulled his boots on and straightened himself out, before opening his door. And finding Bilbo sat outside, leaning slightly to the left, eyes closed and dark circles under his eyes. At Thorin's movement he stirred, looking up blearily.

"Master Baggins, have you been there all night?" He asked softly, in amazement. Bilbo nodded, turning away and refusing to meet his eyes.

"I couldn't sleep and I... I didn't really want to be alone, but I didn't want to disturb you, so-"

"Peace, Bilbo, you need not explain yourself. I imagine after last night, you perhaps did not _want_ to sleep." Bilbo nodded, making to stand up. Thorin gripped him by the elbow and pulled him the rest of the way until he was standing. He said no more about it, but was touched by the fact that he had been watched over in his sleep - perhaps that was why he had felt so easy, when he was usually so tense in unfamiliar places.

"Would you like to help me make some breakfast? I imagine you'll want to eat before you go and tell your people what you're planning. Or whatever it is you're going to do, other than send me to steal from a dragon." He added with a lopsided grin. The dwarf rolled his eyes.

"I would be only happy to help. If there's anything you would like me to pay for my stay here-"

"WHAT? No, no. You really don't know the first thing about hobbits, do you? I know that you're used to people expecting something of you but _really_. Insulting the hospitality of a hobbit by offering to _pay_ them. That's simply... well, be glad that it's me here, and not any other hobbit, or you'd be out on your arse faster than you could blink." He shook his head, huffing in indignation. "If there is one thing hobbits pride themselves in, other than gardening, it is being a good host. Honestly. Asking to _pay_ me. What is the world coming to?" He shook his head and went digging in the pantry - well, one of his pantries, for he was a hobbit, and as we all know, hobbits are fond of a good meal, or seven, each day. Thorin was looking ridiculously flustered, but Bilbo had not even given him time to apologize, but he could hear the hobbit's irate murmurs of "honestly, can it be he's always this rude, or do I just get special treatment?"

Thorin watched after him, mouth agape, his mind boggling at the idea someone could be offended for being offered payment for _food and board_. Just what manner of creatures were these halfli- hobbits, _hobbits_, he mentally corrected himself. Still, he seemed to be able to do nothing _but_ insult him, however unintentionally. And yet somehow he had not been cast back out into the cold - in fact, Bilbo almost seemed to take his insults in stride, as if he were expecting them. Thorin frowned. Perhaps it was just that he had a thicker skin than most of his kin - his story had certainly proved that. A peaceful folk they may have been, but hobbits seemed - or at least, _Bilbo_ seemed resiliant. They had, after all, come back from being nearly decimated by wolves and orcs. He shook his head, which was beginning to ache from pondering the contradictions of this strange and private race.

The hobbit returned, not saying anything, but handing some food to Thorin to cook, whilst he rummaged about in the cupboards for bits and pieces. They made breakfast in silence, and Thorin was convinced that Bilbo was deliberately ignoring him, until he heard him whisper two words in a voice so quiet he could hardly make it out:

"Thank you".

That surprised Thorin more than anything - why would he... Frowning again, Thorin heaped their breakfast onto the plates - _there's so much food here, and given so freely_ - he thought in wonder. If they had found such a place as this earlier, perhaps they could have set up trade - though what use these Shirefolk might have of anything dwarves could offer was beyond him at the present moment. But he'd let his thoughts get away from him - if anything, _he_ should be thanking Bilbo.

"What on Arda are you thanking me for?" He asked, incredulous, whilst the hobbit still faced away from him, "It seems all I've done since I've got here is stumble across painful memories and offer you insult - for which I apologize, as it was the farthest thing from my intention. I have imposed upon your hospitality. I should be the one thanking you." The hobbit did not respond for a long moment, and Thorin could almost swear he heard muffled sniffling, but then he turned around to face the dwarf, smiling kindly.

"I am glad of the company. Truly." His voice sounded small and far away, and he stared off as if there was something in the distance. "It has been... a long time since I've felt like I've been any use to anyone, to be honest with you." He went and set the plates down and then sat, gesturing for Thorin to do the same. They ate in relative silence, each too deeply entrenched in their own thoughts to say anything. Eventually, they finished, and Thorin watched his host clean away the plates and put them away with a thoughtful gaze.

"If you wish, I will write to you, when I return to my kin in the Blue Mountains. There will be much to prepare for, so I will not return here for some time - but might this be the place where the members of our quest will meet? Those I would trust are not many, and they will come from different directions."

"And yet you trust me." Bilbo pointed out, though he was smiling. Something Thorin was glad to see. Though the hobbit had touched upon something that the king himself had been wondering about. Why indeed did he trust this stranger? Before he could answer, Bilbo started speaking again. "Are you sure it would be prudent to write to me? I mean, there might be some, even amongst your kin who would deem the quest foolhardy and stop you from going. If you wrote to me of your plans... no. It would be better just to have Gandalf let me know."

"You trust the wizard?"

"I trust his intentions. Sometimes, though, the adventures he urges people on... well, they don't always end happily ever after, shall we say." Bilbo informed him, thinking of the events of the first time around. Thorin hummed noncommittally.

"Still, I agree with you about the letter, now that I think of it. You are wise, Master Baggins. I feel you will find my advisor Balin a steadfast friend when you meet him. I am sure he, at least, will come." Bilbo almost smirked. With a trusting Thorin, he and Balin could far more easily reason with the stubborn idiot. _Tag-teaming him would be so much fun_, he thought, suppressing a grin. As it was, he could not help a small smile.

"Then I cannot meet him, or your other fellows, soon enough." He paused. "Forgive me, this might be an impertinent question, but other than Frerin... do you have any family?" Thorin offered him a half-smile.

"Nay, Master Baggins, it is a question I believe you have a right to ask, after last night, when you shared so much of your own story with me" _Ha, the surface has barely been scratched, on that front, my King, _thought Bilbo. "The family I have that still live are my sister Dis, and her sons, Fili and Kili."

"Nephews? What's that like?" Oh no. He'd meant to ask what _they_ were like. Not what it was like having nephews. Because for all that Frodo had _called _him Uncle, he was still really a cousin. And he hadn't raised the boy, not really. He had been dear to him, yes, but sometimes, for whatever reason, he could see _Thorin_ in those bright eyes and that dark hair. As it was, the dwarf cast his eyes to the floor for a moment, and looked sad. "Oh no, it's alright. Really. I'm fine. Truly. I got all my tears out already. Tell me what Fili and Kili are like? How old are they? Do they cause all sorts of mischief?" Thorin answered his questions and talked of his friends and family, and those he hoped would join him. He even spoke of his doubts that they would come. If the quest was wise - whether it was folly to follow the wizard's advice, what if-

"Thorin." Bilbo found himself saying rather firmly. "You listen here. You go to your people, you ask for their help. And whoever will join you will join you. You can ask for no more than their loyalty, honour and willing hearts. And from the sounds of it, your sister sons will join you no matter if you allow them or no." He placed his small hand lightly over the dwarf's own, before standing up to rummage for some parchment and ink.

"What are you doing?" Asked Thorin. Bilbo rolled his eyes as he dipped the quill into his ink.

"I am drawing you a nice, clear map, from Bree to Hobbiton. I'm sure Gandalf might have given you one, but the Big Folk aren't as familiar with the ways and paths of Hobbits. We know the Shire like elves know their woods, or like dwarves know mountains. We know our hills and our valleys. Now you should be able to find my house again, no bother. Here. " He handed it to Thorin once he'd finished.

"But why are you-"

"Well," He replied with a grin, "The others will need to get here somehow, won't they? And it is quite easy, indeed, for strangers to get lost in the Shire, if they do not know what they are looking for. Come on, I'll help you pack some extra food for your journey."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This is a bit of a filler chapter, really, just Bilbo getting all his affairs in order. Still, hope you enjoy! Your reviews, faves and follows mean the world to me

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To say Bilbo was conflicted would be a complete understatement. That was not how he'd imagined his second first meeting with Thorin happening. Why did he and Gandalf have to be in Bree? _At least_, he supposed, _there will be no "_**So This Is The Hobbit" **_nonsense. And if he says he got lost I'll-_ he shook his head. Whatever would happen, would happen, and he was just going to let it play out however it may.

As it happened, though, he had an adventure to prepare for - and part of that meant preparing for the possibility of not coming back. He had last time - but now, when everything could -_would_- turn out differently, he definitely did not want the whole mess with Lobelia and Otho Sackville-Baggins swooping in to steal his home. No. If it was going to anyone, it would be Drogo and Primula. They were his dear cousins, and parents to his Frodo. If anyone deserved to have happiness all their life, it was that boy.

So Bilbo sat down in his study and got out a long scroll of parchment and dipped his quill into the inkwell. It was an action very familiar to him, though he was more accustomed to it being for his book and his poems and songs than for any sort of legal document. For all that he had been a very respectable Baggins before, he had never been very organized on that count, seeing as he'd avoided all thoughts of death - perhaps unwisely, considering the fate of his own family. Now he did not have the excuse of being taken by surprise. He _knew_ the dwarves would come, and he knew how dangerous their journey would be, and had no doubt that he would be stepping between them and danger at every opportunity. Scratching his chin with his free hand, he thought about what to write. A letter to the Thain seemed appropriate.

_Dear Gerontius Took, Thain of the Shire, and my dear grandfather,_

_I have decided to go on an adventure. It has been a long time in coming, and I feel it will do me good. However, it is not quite the run of the mill adventure that my mother would go on. No. This is a quest, to help a people reclaim a homeland long lost. Gandalf has enlisted my assistance in the aid of a band of dwarves who wish to save their mountain from a dragon. There will be many perils which we will face, even on the journey there, and so I am not certain if I shall ever return. I know it shall upset you to see me go, and it will grieve me to leave you, but you and I both know that there is not truly a place for me in the Shire any longer. It has long since ceased to be home. I dream of mountains and forests and the cool green sea. I will go East with __these dwarves, and give them what little help I can. Maybe they'll even tell stories about me, just like old Bullroarer, eh? At any rate, I believe Gandalf means to pass through Rivendell on our way, and I should very much like to meet __the elves that so often I sought in the woods._

_In case you seek to stop me - and I do hope you won't, for it would be a fool's errand - these dwarves have lost much. Their home, their families. They have sought work in places far below their station because they are looked down upon and called greedy. Greedy! When their children are starving! I had one of them as my guest this last night and he expected to have to PAY me for dinner, the poor fool. Can you imagine? Making guests pay for dinner? As if the house was some sort of inn. The very idea! Oh, don't you mind, he was very polite, but a backwards sort of fellow. And I had to give him a map so he could find his way back to Bag End with his companions. No sense of direction above ground, dwarves. But I find myself moved by their plight. They have wandered for so long, but could not find a true home in the West. Their eyes long for the Lonely Mountain, grandfather, as deeply as a heartsick elf would gaze out to sea. I must help them, or perish in the attempt. Do not weep, though, I shall be glad to finally see the world beyond my books - even if it does mean facing a dragon. _

_Yours affectionately,_

_Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End_

_P.S. I have attached to this my Will, if only to make sure that Lobelia keeps her sticky paws off my silverware, minx that she is._

_P.P.S. Try not to worry too much, dear old fellow. I'm half a Took, with the good sense of a Baggins. I'll be alright. This is just in case._

Lifting the quill from the parchment, he sighed. He hadn't said nearly all that he had wanted to, but he couldn't really, could he? And it was more warning than he'd given the first go around. But now he had actually to write his will.

It was difficult, but in the end, he ended up leaving most of it to Primula and Drogo, and "any children they might decide to have", whilst making some provision for Hamfast. After all, Sam and Frodo still had to end up best friends. He left a little token to the parents of Merry and Pippin as well. Oh, how dearly he had loved those mischief makers when they were children, those bright smiles and the way they always spoke in sync. It was always "merry and pippin" never one without the other, and it had always reminded him of two very dear dwarflings. He had wondered at one point if it was them reincarnated, but no, he didn't quite think so. For one thing, Pippin had never been any good with a bow. He briefly wondered if he'd ever get a chance to tell them his stories this time around?

He shoved his melancholy thoughts aside. They would not do him any good. He decided he would go and visit his grandfather himself to give him the letter. It had been quite a while since he had seen the Old Took, and even longer since he had spoken to him. Not through malice, but simple negligence on both parts. Gerontius had many, many relatives, and keeping up with them all was simply impossible. So Bilbo decided to set out for Tookborough with letter in hand.

He hadn't quite expected to see Gandalf just as he was opening the door to go out.

"My dear fellow! Where are you off to?" The old wizard asked, leaning against his staff as if he really was just an old man with a bad back. Bilbo closed the door behind him before answering.

"To visit my grandfather, Gandalf. Would you very much mind accompanying me? I do suppose I'll need an extra witness for my will." The wizard frowned at him before nodding thoughtfully.

"I suppose this is all very sensible of you" He conceded, though he looked worried.

"Well, I can't very well come back to find them auctioning off my silverware. Imagine if _Lobelia_ got Bag End" He shuddered at the memory of it, and Gandalf chuckled at him.

"Perish the thought, my dear Bilbo. And it has been a long while since I have seen Gerontius. I am not sure he shall be glad to see me."

"He should not blame you. You did what you could. Shadows grow in all corners of the world, and a wizard's work is never done, nor is it ever easy." He patted his friend on the back and smiled sadly. Gandalf looked quite touched by his words. Bilbo continued, "And if he does, grandfather or no, I will punch him." At that, the wizard let out a startled laugh.

"You are certainly not the hobbit I expected, Master Baggins." The wizard mused as they walked through the peaceful, grass covered hills of Hobbiton. They got a few strange looks, but folks otherwise left them to their own business.

"Indeed not, Gandalf. But... Thorin and his people have lost their home, and... and I will help them take it back if it is within my power to do so. Add to that, dragons are not familiar with the scent of hobbits. I doubt Smaug has ever been this far West, even in his youth. I pray that he never gets the chance to. Orcs were bad enough... but a dragon. Still, I'm letting my imagination get away with me. Was there a reason you came to my door today?"

"What? Ah, yes, there was. I meant to ask you something. Can I trust you with a very important fear of mine?"

"I am only a hobbit, Gandalf." Bilbo protested, "but if you wish to impart it to me, I shall never break your confidence. I am a Baggins, after all." The wizard nodded.

"There is someone who I once counted a very dear friend. I fear that he ... that something has changed." The worried frown that the wizard wore made Bilbo wary.

"Is this friend another wizard?" Startled, Gandalf could do nothing but nod.

"Well... keep up the appearance of friendship, even if it seems his actions are... less _wise_ than you are accustomed to - do not let him see your suspicions. Power corrupts, and great power even more so - be wary. That is why hobbits are a peaceful folk. We do not seek, nor need power."

"You are wise beyond your years, Bilbo, and your counsel is most appreciate it. And somehow, I believe you know exactly whom I refer to." _Wise beyond my years? No Gandalf, I earned my wisdom _through_my years._

"Come along, then, we're nearly at Tookborough. Grandfather won't be happy, but he won't stop me, either."

They stopped by the door of his smial and knocked. It took the Old Took a good long while to answer, but when he saw Bilbo he embraced him.

"Ah, it is good to see you, my boy. How have you been keeping? The last few months I've been hearing some rather odd things about you. What does a hobbit need knives and swords for?"

"To defend oneself. Naturally. That is what weapons are for, you know-"

"WIZARD HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE. IT'S YOUR FAU-" Bilbo slapped his grandfather and growled.

"ENOUGH. You really blame yourself, but Gandalf is a convenient scapegoat. Yes, he arrived late, but he actually came. He has more of Middle-Earth to watch over than just the _Shire_, so if I hear one more word against him out of your mouth, I'll have a few more worse for you." Bilbo did not yell, except that first word. His voice was dangerously quiet, and the Old Took stepped back, wary of his grandson.

"Look, the only reason I came here was to give you this. And since Gandalf appeared as well, I would like you both to sign my will as witnesses as I am going on an adventure and do not know if I will return. So I'd really rather have everything in order before I go."

"But Bilbo... you can't... you-"

"I _must._" Bilbo countered, holding the old hobbit's gaze. Gerontius looked away first, sighing sadly.

"I've seen that look before, on your mother." He shook his head. "Alright, alright. There'll be no stopping you, and you're a grown hobbit, capable of his own decisions, even if they're damn fool ones." Bilbo beamed at him and grasped him in a firm, but gentle embrace, even touching his forehead gently with his own. Gandalf looked on, quietly amused.

"That's quite the dwarfish gesture, Bilbo, my lad. I think you'll fit right in with them."

"Yes, well, not if they start dancing on my table."

The Old Took led them into his study and both he and Gandalf witnessed Bilbo's will, after reading through to making sure it was all in order, and they left his grandfather to read the letter in peace, then made their way up to Bag End, where Bilbo invited Gandalf to come and have a little afternoon tea.

"Watch that chand-" But Gandalf had already hit his head off of it, and Bilbo smiled a little secret smile, because no matter what universe he was in, and no matter how many times he might have to relive everything (and by Eru he hoped it was only the once) there were some irrefutable things that would always stay the same.


End file.
